Santa Clive Receives A Benevolent Prostate Exam
by Nate-kun
Summary: In which Clive and the Professor have a completely meta yet calm discussion. Whether or not you find it unnerving is up to you.


**I bet you're wondering something. So I'm going to take a guess, and if I'm right, I'll gauge your disappointment: If you're wondering where **_**Vs The World **_**has gone to. Then please, check my profile, and bring some tissues too. You won't stop fapping once I tell you.**

***Completely missing the point***

**Ah yes, I assume that if you did check my profile, then you're back by now. Alas, what must be done must be done. That aside, I hope you enjoy today's chapter of Clive's...How can I put this, "London Life". Today's story is what happens after a ton of therapy sessions properly hit their mark. **

**Word Count: 957 words.**

* * *

Santa Clive Gets A Benevolent Prostate Exam In The Bathroom of A Costco

Clive sipped his tea, looking at Layton bluntly from across the table. Luke was still in school, so it was just the two of them, and unless Layton had been mistaken, no one gave a damn about Flora.

"Tea's quite good Professor, I commend you for finally finding a blend that does not taste completely bland."

Layton responded with a proper sip from his own cup, "Well, you know I do try. And it's only the best I can do after all those years of therapy finally worked." Clive nodded, looking out the window of the dining room, "It's a nice day isn't it?" he asked.

"I would be lying if I told you otherwise. So, unless I'm inclined to not know, do you mind telling me exactly why you went to therapy in the first place?"

Clive clicked his tongue, looking towards the ceiling, "It's the weirdest thing really, I mean, ever since the Future London predicament, a scheme for which I again, humbly apologize for-"

"You know I forgive you for that."

"I do. Anyhow, ever since then, I've been having these strange dreams. These strange dreams about...People. People writing stories about us, most likely me. Stories about seemingly flawless girls we've never met before suddenly being related to you and my love interest, stories with the upmost horrid grammar, the kind even you wouldn't enjoy the company of, stories with completely nonsensical plotlines-"

Layton interrupted Clive, "And yet you argue that this one makes anymore sense?"

"It's not like these had a particular stable continuity anyway, you don't expect much from this. You just expect the unexpected, as you've always taught me, Professor."

Layton sipped more of his tea, "I do recall, even if our first tale came into reality about three years ago. So what you're saying is that the cover does not always correlate to what is presented?"

"Precisely!"

The Professor adjusts his hat, he found himself looking outside, "Tell me more about these odd dreams, Clive."

"Well, I recall one being about me abducting another individual, another was about a flower and I going about in harmony, what's worse? Sometimes they're not even dreams about me! Sometimes, they're dreams about you, Professor. I recall this one dream adapting a, TV show I think, into a story with your ensemble having taken place of the characters! If that wasn't enough, others were about you turning into a mythical creature, a village filled with mystical animals, stories about the possibility of your sweetheart somehow living, and you know what was the most prominent thing drifting through my mind?"

"Sadly no, what would that be?"

"It's the weirdest thing but, in just about every predicament featuring a character that we don't already know, I found that these characters are almost always girls, and they are _always _your daughter for some unexplained reason, in one scenario, the character was_ my_ daughter, which I have to say, was the only fun dream, despite it's negative outcome. You see Professor, sometimes I question why they have an attraction to me. I'm not exactly the strongest guy around, is that not what females desire in a man?"

The Professor took another sip of his tea, "I apologize for having to tell you this, Clive, but the world as we know it outside of this dining room, is very different from the London you and I have been oh-so accustomed too."

"Huh? What do you mean? !"

"See, Clive, the world outside here is different. Within that universe, females as we know them now are completely different. They are rampant, defensive, obsessive, offensive little deviants who desire only the most depressing, skinny, and gentlemanly individuals in order to fulfill their desires for a ship."

Clive cocked an eyebrow, stirring his tea just so he could have something to do, "I don't see how I tie into all of that, Professor."

"Clive, you are the epitome of that stereotype when it comes to us. The outside world, who view us, read us, and play our lives through this one-sided mirror, find you as the pinnacle point. In other words, you are "bait". You are what women in their world seek in a man, in other words, words not my own, you are "perfect". Your looks, personality, details. Everything about you fits their little requirements, limits, needs, wants, and uttermost desires. They want you, but they know they cannot have you, do you understand what I'm saying?"

Clive glumly looked up from his tea, "Somewhat," he pouted, "but Professor. I have one more question."

"Go ahead and ask." Layton motioned.

"What about the person who is composing this take on us now? What is her take on us?"

Layton's eyes slightly widened at Clive's mistake, "Oh? I'm sorry Clive, but you've seem to have gotten your information wrong. The person who is addressing this tale to the outside world isn't of feminine gender."

"So you mean-"

"Yes."

"And you mean to say that he doesn't wish to-"

"Yes."

"What does he think of me then?"

The Professor took another long sip from his cup, the longest yet, "Well, to put it lightly, Clive. I'll just go ahead and tell you: He hates you. He has a certain distaste for you that he cannot bring himself to explain. If I could answer for him, it's probably because of all the people in their world that target you, their obessive traits have probably caused some sort of ignorant intolerance within him to burst, and that is why he has such disdain for you."

Clive sat his cheek on his fist, looking outside the window again.

"It's a nice day, isn't it?" asked the Professor.

Clive couldn't help but smile, "I suppose it is."


End file.
